Love Me, Love Me Not
by Sila Ninque
Summary: Terry's got her very own stalker, and he will stop at nothing to make her his, including eliminating all the competition. Second story in the Not So Far arc. DxT, CxA
1. Chocolate

A/N: This story begins about a month after the closing of Not So Far. It _is_ a continuation, of sorts, but I'm pretty sure it'll stand alone. However, obviously, if you've read NSF, you'll know that Don and Terry are back together, as well as Charlie and Amita, whom I'll try to do a bit better keeping up with this story, though they won't make an appearance at all this chapter. Just too much info to cram into one short chapter:D Also, for a full explanation of Kylie Jackson (who is half-owned by my friend Tabitha, as always), see NSF. Okay, now that _that_ is over…

**Disclaimer**: And here we go again. Numb3rs, it's characters, it's plots, or anything related to it does not belong to me. Though it creates a HECK of an inspiration for all of us fanfic-writers, does it not?

_Love Me, Love Me Not_

Chapter one: Chocolate

Agent Terry Lake sighed as she heard another peal of thunder break through the hazy morning. Was it ever going to _rain,_ or was it simply going to threaten for another few days? She heard the familiar _ding_ of the elevator doors and waited for them to slide open.

"Morning, Terry." Don greeted her with a polite nod, which she returned with the barest hint of a secretive smile. He gave her a sly wink as he turned to engage her in meaningless morning conversation about the weather.

Once they arrived on their floor, he escorted her out, looking just as comfortable and nonphysical as he had months ago…before Pittsburgh, before they became more than "just friends". Terry smiled her thanks and moved to drop her purse onto her desk, knocking something else off as she did so, which fell between her desk and the wall. Curious, she pulled the desk away and peered between it and the wall. Something red and shiny winked back at her.

She drew it out, examining it with shocked dark eyes…a box of chocolate? Intrigued, she read the note that had been scotch-taped to the box,

_To my love:_

_I've known you for what seems like forever, though you don't notice me. You are such an amazing person, with your bright eyes and your ready smile. I've seen you with your new boyfriend--you are dating, are you not? You and that handsome young agent from work? Don't see him anymore. He thinks you belong to him. I can't allow that._

_He is not good enough for you, Terry. No one is good enough for you, save me. We were meant for each other. You will see that, but I have to give you time._

_I hope you will accept this meaningless but hopeful token of my devotion to you. I only trust that you will accept it for what it is--a gift from a man to the woman he loves._

Terry dropped the box onto her desk with shaking hands. "Don?"

Before the word had even left her mouth, he was at her side, catching her arm, concern flashing in his dark eyes. "What? What is it?"

Wordlessly, she handed him the box. His hand tightened about her arm possessively as he read, and she was glad for his steady touch. Her own stalker. Just what she needed. This week just kept getting better and better.

Suddenly, the impending storm broke with a fury, a loud rumble of thunder shaking the floor beneath her feet and making her jump. The lights flickered and went out for a moment, then blinked back on. Terry felt her cheeks flame. She hadn't jumped at thunder since she was about twelve years old. The chocolates must really have thrown her. Correction--the _note_ must really have thrown her.

Don studied her quietly, his dark eyes concerned. "I'm taking this with me. See if I can't get anything off of it."

"Don, I don't think--"

"Terry." He interrupted her firmly.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, blowing a stray strand of hair off her forehead. She would never admit it, but she really was touched by the gesture. "Fine." She mock-huffed. Then she dropped the demeanor and gave him an honest, nervous smile. "Thanks, Don. I appreciate it."

"As well you should." He nodded, returning her uncertain smile with a comfortable and confident one. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Don't worry about it. "

"Thanks."

And she tried not to. All that day, she forced her mind to stay on its work. By the time she left the Federal building, she was actually in a pretty good mood. She darted through the rain, slid behind the wheel of her glistening black Hummer, and used the rearview mirror to try to finger-comb her windblown hair back into place. Using her thumb, she wiped away a few smudges of eyeliner and blinked away the moisture beaded on her eyelashes onto a tissue, ensuring that she wouldn't have runny mascara beneath her eyes. Then she turned on the car and headed for the grocery store, singing merrily with the radio as she drove.

Terry tried to balance a paper bag of groceries on her left hip while fishing through her purse for her keys in the darkness of the front walkway of her apartment. The rain dripped wetly off the roof overhead, dampening the asphalt to release the heat it had soaked up all day in curls of warm steam.

_I have got to remember to leave the porch light on._ She mused, finally closing her hand around the cool metal of the keys in her purse and digging them out. She flipped through the ring, finally finding and fitting the correct key into the lock and practically falling through the door. As she struggled to find the light switch, her phone began to shrill from the island in her kitchen. Cursing silently under her breath, she found the light and flipped it on, then scampered to the kitchen to drop her purse, keys, and groceries on the counter before fumbling with the phone.

"Hello?" It hadn't occurred to her before the phone reached her ear…who would be calling her home phone? Everyone she knew used her cell. Then something else came to mind…whoever was on the other end of the line wasn't talking. Terry could hear heavy breathing, as though the caller had been running, but no effort was made to speak.

"Hello? Who's there?"

_Click._ The phone went dead. The blonde agent pulled it away from her ear and gazed at it in confusion for several moments before slowly replacing it in the cradle. Now somewhat creeped out, Terry tried to shrug off the feeling and opened her fridge, dropping the half-gallon of milk and bag of baby carrots on the shelf. Probably a wrong number, she tried to reassure herself. It had nothing to do with that stupid candy.

Just as the freaked-out feeling began to seep from her body, the doorbell rang….then rang again, insistently. With a sigh, she called, "Coming, coming!" And picked her way quickly between the furniture to the front door. Leaving the chain hooked in place, she opened the door a crack…

And something fell through. Something large, red, and heart-shaped.

Fighting back the terror that rose in her throat, Terry only just remembered the lecture on stalking she'd attended the spring before. Shaking the sleeve of her blouse down over her hand to avoid leaving any of her own prints on the box, she carefully picked up the package and slowly withdrew into her apartment, making sure that anyone who might be watching saw her movements. Once safely inside, she locked the door handle and the deadbolt, making sure that the chain was securely in place before depositing the newest "gift" on her coffee table.

She stood looking at it for several moments, trying to decide what to do next. After checking to make sure the curtains were securely closed over her windows, she dialed Don's cell phone with a slightly-shaking finger.

After waiting for several rings, she reached his voicemail, "Hello, this is Agent Don Eppes…I can't answer my phone right now, but if you'll leave your name and number, I'll get back to you within the hour. Thanks."

Deciding that this was important enough to interrupt whatever Don might be working on, Terry left a quick, "It's me and it's important, call me back as soon as you get this" message on his voicemail before hanging up and punching in the numbers for his pager. After leaving her callback number, she collapsed on the couch to wait, turning on the television to break the freakish silence that had befallen the apartment. Funny, quiet had never made her this nervous before…

She jumped as her island phone rang again. Turning the volume on the television up to avoid answering it, she heard the machine pick up, the quick message play, "Hello, you've reached the home of Terry Lake. If you'd really like to get in touch with me, try my cell phone, or if you'd like, you can leave a message and I'll call back soon. Thanks, bye!", and then…

Nothing. That same unnatural heavy breathing, the sound of someone licking their lips, and then…a voice, cold and chilling, like nothing she'd ever heard before. "Hello, Terry. I know you're home. Pick up the phone, Terry." A pause, during which she tried to hold back a bloodcurdling scream, "Terry…" His voice was sing-song, almost childish. "Did you like my presents? I know your boyfriend took the one I left for you at work. So I got you a new one…"

Finally, it stopped, leaving her curled into a corner of the couch with a pillow clutched to her chest, relieved that it was finally over. When the silence, broken only by the mindless laughter of the sitcom on the television set in front of her, settled around her once more, she began to breathe again.

However, when the phone rang again, she nearly screamed--not with terror, but with frustration. Her attitude changed from horror-stricken to furious in the time it took for the phone to ring once. What was _with_ this guy?

She stormed over to the phone and lifted it from the cradle. "Alright, that is _it! _You listen and you listen good, you creepy little--"

"Terry?" This voice was familiar and all-too-welcome.

"Don?" She could have cried with relief. "Why aren't you calling my cell?"

"Because this is the callback you left on my pager." …Oh. In her fear, she must have automatically dialed the number at the front of her mind…her home phone number rather than the one for her cell. "What's wrong, Terry?"

"Don, he called my house! And then he knocked on the door and when I opened it there was another box of chocolate on the doormat and then he called again and I--" She rambled, desperate to make him understand her plight. Normally, she was the most level-headed person she knew. But this…this was just over the top. She was terrified, and she was not afraid to admit it.

"Slow down, Terry. I'm on my way over there. Give me ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay." She hated her voice for sounding so panicky.

"Good. I'm on my way. Keep the door locked, don't answer the phone again."

"Trust me, that won't be an issue." She promised.

"Good girl. I have to go, the phone is dying…I'm so sorry. I love you, Terry. Hold on."

"It's okay, I understand; and I will…love you, too."

With that, he grudgingly closed his phone. He hated himself for having to hang up on her, but already his phone was giving him the familiar beep-beep of a dying battery. He was only glad that she had thought to call his pager, since he'd turned the phone off to save battery power hours ago. Why hadn't he charged it last night? After mentally giving himself several kicks, he pressed a little bit harder on the gas pedal, his wipers going into overtime as they tried to slap the late-August rain away from his windshield. _I'm coming, Terry._ He promised her.

Terry hung up as well, then proceeded to pace across the kitchen, the cordless in her hand and her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her free hand wandered to her face, where she proceeded to bite the nail of whichever finger reached her lips first.

For the second time that night, she jumped as the phone in her hand rang. She dropped it to the counter and backed away warily, as though it might explode. One, two, three, four…

Just as the machine picked up, the caller hung up, cutting her recorded greeting short. A moment later, the phone began to ring again. One…two…three…four…

Again and again it happened, while she tried to decide whether or not to follow Don's instructions. _"Don't answer the phone._" His voice echoed in her mind. "_Don't answer the phone_."

Her temper snapped. The nerves that had been on edge all day finally gave way. Terry picked up the phone and hurled it across the room with all the strength she possessed, watching it shatter against the wall. The pieces fell to the carpet in a destructive rain.

She watched it break, then resumed her pacing. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn. Suddenly, she paused, something penetrating her haze of thoughts. Was that another sound…other footsteps? Pacing outside her apartment, back and forth between her corner apartment and the one on the other side of her? She stood stone-still in the middle of the kitchen, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, carefully, Terry made her way to the windows of her living room, where she lifted the edge of one of the curtains. Outside, however, she saw nothing. Her nerves really were shot.

Sighing heavily, she collapsed into the chair by the door, shaking all over. She felt as though her body had been put through a wringer and left out to dry. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring blankly at the wall across from her. _Don's coming, Don's coming, Don's coming_… She thought frantically.

A steady knock came at her door. Breathing a silent prayer, she went to open it, wishing again that she had thought to get an apartment with a peephole in the door. She unlatched the locks, once more leaving the chain in place, and opened the door a slight crack. The air left her lungs in a relieved sigh. "Don!"

She closed the door, threw off the chain, and flung it wide, nearly collapsing in her rescuer's arms. He held tightly and pulled her back into the apartment. After closing and carefully locking the door, he led her gently to the couch, where he settled beside her and cradled her gently in his arms.

"What happened, Terry?"

She told him, a rush of an explanation flowing from her in a long rant. When she had talked herself out, reliving her last terrified hour, she curled tighter against him. "What am I going to do?"

"For tonight, you're going to sleep. I'm going to stay right here with you, and you are going to go to bed and get some rest."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Sleep. Doubt _that,_ after the day I've had."

"You're going to try." He said firmly, tightening his arms around her. She relaxed, for the first time in hours, against him, content for the moment to be safe. And, despite her adamant declaration, she felt herself drifting to sleep in Don's arms. Just before she nodded off, she felt him shaking her ever so slightly, "Terry?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I borrow your phone charger?"

-------------------

There you have it. No cliffy this time, though I promise you they will come. This, too, I'm planning on being between five and ten chapters, depending on how I want to drag it out and where it decides it would like to go. I let my stories run my life, which is why I definitely _don't _have a 4.0 GPA.

I'm planning on updating this at the end of this month, one more time, and then there'll be a one-month-long hiatus so I can work on my NaNoWriMo novel. Wish me luck, maybe I'll actually win this year!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Review replies, after this, will be answered on my LiveJournal… www. livejournal. com / users / silaninque

Minus the spaces, of course. All reviews left here will be answered individually there…since I just learned last week that we're not really supposed to do individual replies here.

So…final review replies for up: _Roses_

A quick preview for you all:

_It had been a quiet two weeks. Since that first terrifying night, there had been nothing. No note, no gift, no phone calls, no nothing. She was surprised, but grateful. Maybe he'd moved on._

_At least, that was what she'd hoped until the afternoon she got home and opened her door to find the inside of her apartment filled with dozens and dozens of blood-red roses. She smiled, thinking that Don had really gone out of his way this time. A videotape with her name written on the label rested on top of the television, and she beamed as she pushed it into the VCR and pushed the 'play' button. The screen went black and a voice began to speak._

"_Hello, beautiful."_

_She gasped, terror-stricken. That wasn't Don's voice. Horrified, she sat frozen on the couch, watching the blank screen and listening to the message,_

"_Did you think I'd forget about you? You know how I feel about you. Love like this comes only once in a lifetime. _

_I thought I told you to stop seeing Agent Eppes. You need to learn to listen to me, Terry. I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson. It's not going to be pretty…but you'll thank me in the end. I'm doing the right thing._

_Don't these roses smell pretty? Enjoy it while it lasts. Nothing lasts forever, remember._

_Goodbye for now, my love. See you soon."_

_With a strangled cry, she ran for her purse and furiously punched the speed-dial for Don's cell phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…" She begged silently, waiting…_

Now, see, _that_ was a cliffhanger. Don't worry, you won't have to wait quite so long this time for an update. One more, and I promise not to leave _that_ on a total cliffhanger, and then I go on writer-vacation (at least fanfic writing) for a month to participate in NaNoWriMo. Check out my bio if you want to know what that's all about.

Guess that's it for me.

Love to all,

Sila


	2. Roses

Hello again, all! I've missed writing so much, but unfortunately, haven't been able to do much between school and working 18-25 hours a week. But I'm BACK! And this time, I am keeping my resolutions--updates once a week. . . different stories different days.

**In other news**: -Sobs-I can't believe it. . . I missed Numb3rs last week. I missed it! Just had to share that with some people who would be sympathetic, since my roommate is decidedly not so. In fact, I believe her response was a shake of the head and "You're such a geek". –Grins- I am!

**Disclaimer:** Caveman Bob says that I don't own the show. I think that's the only thing he CAN say. However, much as it pains me to admit it, he's right. I don't own Numb3rs, it's characters, or anything else affiliated with the show. So don't sue me. . . between myself and Bob here, we have about $15.

And, with that happy note, onward we go.

_Love Me, Love Me Not: Roses_

It had been a quiet two weeks. Since that first terrifying night, there had been nothing. No note, no gift, no phone calls, no nothing. She was surprised, but she was grateful. Maybe he'd moved on.

At least, that was what she'd hoped until the sun-drenched afternoon she got home and opened her door to find the inside of her apartment filled with dozens and dozens of roses. Red ones. She was smiling, thinking that Don had really gone out of his way this time, when she noticed that a videotape with her name written on the label resting innocently on top of the television, and she beamed as she pushed it into the VCR and pushed the 'play' button. The screen went black and a voice began to speak.

"_Hello, beautiful."_

She gasped. That wasn't Don's voice. Horrified, she stood, frozen, before her television, watching the blank screen and listening to the message,

"_Did you think I'd forget about you? You know how I feel about you. Love like this comes only once in a lifetime. Perhaps not even so often as that._

_I thought I told you to stop seeing Agent Eppes. You need to learn to listen to me, Terry. I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson. It's not going to be pretty…but you'll thank me in the end. I'm doing the right thing._

_Don't these roses smell pretty? Enjoy it while it lasts. _

_Goodbye for now, my love. See you soon. _

_I'm not going away. . ."_

With a strangled cry, she ran for her purse and furiously punched the speed-dial for Don's cell phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up. . ." She begged silently, waiting…

"Yeah, Eppes."

"Don? Where are you? What are you doing?"

"Terry? Are you all right?" He asked her, his tone obviously concerned.

"Where are you?" She repeated frantically.

"I'm on my way to the office to drop off a case file."

"No!" She yelped. "Not the office! Go to. . ." She wracked her mind for a safe place. "Go to Charlie's. I'll meet you there."

"Terry, honey, what's going on?"

"I got something from my stalker again." She said, trying to keep her voice calm and professional as she paced the length of her white living room. "He's threatening you. I don't want you anywhere that he can find you easily."

"Okay, okay." He said, trying to reassure her. "I'll call Charlie."

"Great." She hung up and, covering her hand to avoid leaving any more prints on the tape, she dropped it into a large Ziploc and fled the apartment. After a moment's thought, she hailed a cab in lieu of driving her conspicuous black SUV.

"Where to?" The driver asked her without bothering to turn around.

"The West Side." She replied, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. She glanced behind them as the taxi pulled out. Three streets later, even her most well-trained FBI senses were convinced that they weren't being followed.

"You okay, little lady?" The cabbie asked, his watery green eyes studying her in the cracked rearview mirror.

"I'm fine." She replied, pulling a rose petal from the bottom of her shoe and pitching it viciously to the floor.

---------------------------------------------------

Don switched off his car's engine, bounded up the steps, yanked the door open, and tossed his suit jacket down on the chair next to it. "Hey! Charlie, Dad! Terry here yet?"

"No. She just called to say that she was stuck in traffic and that she'll be here soon. She was very vague. What's going on?" Charlie called down the steps.

"I don't know for sure--it's got something to do with her stalker."

"Terry has a stalker?" Alan asked, appearing in the doorway to the living room, where Don was wearing a new trail in the shiny hardwood floor with his pacing.

"Again?" Charlie's footsteps descended the stairs and he appeared next to his father. "He's been quiet for weeks--why now?"

"I don't know, but she seemed pretty shaken up." Don said.

"Terry has a stalker?" Alan repeated, waiting for his sons to notice his presence.

"We thought he'd moved on." Don replied by way of explanation.

Alan shook his head. "You kids. . ."

Charlie chuckled, but before he could reply, the doorbell rang. Don, who was closest, opened it earnestly, but it was Amita standing on the other side, looking as pretty as ever but very confused. She smiled at them nervously, "Hi. Don, this was on your car." She held out a slim yellow envelope.

"My car?" FBI instincts kicked in, and Don covered his hand with a tissue from the box on the nearby coffee table before taking it and thanking her distractedly. He opened the envelope and shook the contents out onto the table--photographs. Using a pen, he separated the papers, and his mouth went dry at the sight.

They were all shots of Terry, taken through various windows in her apartment. One was of her watching television in her bathrobe, one was her walking across her bedroom in her pajamas, one was of her fixing her hair in her bathroom mirror.

But the last one, the one that stopped his heart, was the most innocent-looking of all. It was taken from _inside_ her home: Terry, fast asleep, one hand tucked childishly beneath her porcelain cheek.

His heart stopped. Turning his back on the photographs, he paced back and forth across the room, his fingers a blur as they danced across the pad of his phone. Time and time again, he dialed every number he could think of--her home, her cell, even the office--and got nothing but her cheery voicemail in return.

Just as he was about to call David or Kylie and descend into full-blown panic mode, there came a quick knocking at the door. Charlie opened it this time, and Terry nearly fell into the living room.

"Terry! Oh, thank God." Don ran to her and, in a slightly uncharacteristic display of emotion, he pulled her to his chest and held her there. "I've been calling and calling you. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It's in my car. I took a cab." She replied, pulling the tape from her purse and handing it over, still held within its little plastic bag, to Don.

He took it and glared at it as though it were responsible for every evil in the world. Then he gestured to the photographs on the coffee table. "I got a present, too. Isn't that nice?" He said sarcastically.

She moved to study the pictures, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. The room lapsed into silence--Don with the tape in his hands, standing at the bottom of the stairs; Amita and Charlie side-by-side next to the door, her hand resting lightly on his forearm for support; and Alan leaning against a large armchair--as she gazed down at them. And then, she did something they weren't expecting.

She grinned. "Stupid man." She said, her voice cheery. "Look what he's gone and done. Isn't that nice?"

She pointed to one of the pictures, the one of her in her bathrobe watching television. Don studied it for a moment, wondering what she was getting at.

She smirked at him, "Look at it objectively, Eppes, and you'll see it."

So he did. Forcing himself not to think about the fact that it was his girlfriend, his Terry, in that photograph, he glanced at it again. And he saw it. There, in the corner, was a reflection.

The camera covered much of his face and the morning sun distorted quite a bit of the image, but it was clear enough--fortunately, he was hiding behind the half-closed living room curtain, which provided a nice white backdrop for his reflection. A slightly-paunchy white man, late forties, dark hair. He wore a blue-and-green checked flannel shirt, jeans that didn't quite cover enough of his bulging belly, and he had a wide-brimmed hat on.

"Good catch, Agent Lake." He said, resting his hand lightly on her lower back. She smiled at him, looking a bit pale and shaky, but completely under control.

"What can I say? It's a gift." She replied.

"All right. Let's get to the office. I'd say it's time we--" Don's words were cut off by the revving of an engine outside, quickly followed by a terrible crunching sound.

They rushed as one to the window, just in time to see a massive black truck backing out of the driveway. It reached the road and squealed away, leaving the group to gape at the enormous dent in the side of Don's SUV. Etched into the paint next to the depression, readable even from the window a hundred yards away, were words:

BACK OFF.

----------------

There you go. Little bit of a cliffhanger at the end. Sorry about that, but if I do much more, it will cut into the next chapter, and that wouldn't be good, now would it?

Which brings me to said next chapter's little preview:

_Champagne_

_Don was busily dividing the papers into stacks and putting the stacks into folders for Charlie when his phone rang. _

_Without bothering to check the ID, he flipped the cell open, "Eppes."_

"_Don, it's me."_

"_Terry? Hey, what's up?"_

"_I--I need your help."_

"_Sure." He was already riding, pulling his suit coat over his shoulders and flipping off the lamp. "What's wrong?"_

"_I don't feel good." She said softly. For a moment, he was confused…why would she be calling him to tell him that she wasn't feeling well? That wasn't like her. Then, in the silence that fell in the wake of her statement, he heard sounds--chatter, the clattering of dishes, and the sound of soft music._

"_Where are you?"_

"_At Giorgio's on Second Street."_

_That explained the delicate phrasing of her words. He grabbed his keys and took off for the elevator._

"_What's bothering you? Your head?"_

"_M-hm." Was her affirmative answer, "I think. . ." She trailed off for a moment._

"_You think what?" He asked, waiting impatiently for the arrival of the elevator car. He nearly missed her answer, it was so quiet._

"_I think I've been drugged."_

Whee, that was a long preview. For those of you that've checked my LJ, you know about my resolution for this year. . .you can expect an update next Friday. YAY! I am NOT breaking my resolution (if it's within my power, anyway) this year!

Catch ya Friday!

All my love,

Sila.


	3. Pillows

**A/N**: I don't know how many of you are keeping up with my journal or if you've read my new Supernatural story, but you'll find the excuses for the lack of updates there. WRITER'S BLOCK! -Curses Writer's Block back to the depths of Hell-

I changed around the plotline a little bit. The preview you got last chapter will actually be part of the final chapter now. It fits better there. Plus it gives us a little more room for Don/Terry angst, which will appear in swells the size of Mount Everest next chapter. Yay! Don angst! (I really love to torture my favorite characters. Consider it a compliment, Donny.)

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I still don't own the show. Yes, I still wish I did.

_Love Me, Love Me Not Chapter 3  
**Pillows**_

Don cursed—loudly—and raced out the front door, down the steps, and to the end of the driveway. By the time he arrived, however, the enormous black truck was turning at the end of the road, leaving nothing but the crushed car behind to show it had ever been there.

He sighed and gazed levelly at the huge dent, as though it were responsible for every evil in the world. He felt more than saw Terry draw up beside him and, a moment later, felt her shoulder brush his. "I think it's time we said something. It's serious now."

"Yes." He agreed. "I think so. Dad, can we borrow your car?" He asked the man who still stood, stunned, in the doorway.

Alan nodded dumbly, fishing his keys from his pocket and tossing them to his older son. Don gave his father, brother, and Amita a quick, reassuring smile and motioned to the car. Terry followed his unspoken request and led the way.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Agent Eppes?" Director Sarah Young, who had been "assigned" the case, stood in the doorway and motioned for him to follow her inside the office. He gave Terry a quick glance as she was led away to another office to tell her own story. She cast a quick smile over her shoulder at him, and he took comfort in it.

He followed the agent into her office, sinking gratefully into the chair she offered. Waiting for her to speak, he mentally ran over and over his story, trying to figure out how he could tell his story without confessing about his relationship with his coworker.

"Okay, Agent Eppes, why don't you tell me what you know." She said, smiling to ease his obvious discomfort. She was young for a director, but there was an air of experience about her. No doubt, this woman knew her stuff.

He took a deep breath, smiling nervously at her. "Well, I was there when Terry found the box of chocolates—the first "gift" from her stalker on her desk. I took the note and the chocolates to the lab, but both came back with nothing to follow up on. That night, she received another box and several disturbing phone calls—untraceable. After that, though, it was very quiet until this afternoon, when she arrived home and found dozens of roses in her apartment. She also discovered a videotape, which she played on her VCR and discovered that it was a recorded message to her.

"She immediately called me and asked me to meet at my brother's house—neutral ground; he's our consultant, and both of us figured her stalker wouldn't look for her there. She opted to take a cab and got caught in traffic. I made it to my brother's without incident and was waiting inside when Amita, who is a friend of Charlie's, arrived. She offered me this envelope," He dug into the briefcase he'd had the presence of mind to grab before racing out the door and produced the yellow envelope, safely sealed in a plastic bag, "which held these photographs." Another set of bags were supplied, and a photograph lay inside each. He offered them to the girl, "No one in my house touched them. While we were still discussing the pictures, there was this crunching sound, and we all ran to the windows. There was a truck pulling out of the drive. He'd hit my car."

She was studying him, her light eyes flashing with calculation. "How long have you and Agent Lake been dating?" She asked suddenly.

His jaw dropped, and he clamored for an answer, recovering his professional air about ten seconds too late. "Wha—what?"

She smiled gently, "How long? It's okay, Agent, I'm not going to fire you."

He closed his mouth and avoided her gaze. "Since just after we got home from working the Baxter case in Pittsburgh." He said softly.

"Love is where you find it, Agent Eppes." She replied, just as quietly.

He smiled, a faraway look coming into his dark eyes. "You've got a point. I know it's against the rules."

"I've always hated that rule."

"I'm her boss. She's not supposed to fall in love with me."

She held up her hand, a large diamond flashing on the fourth finger. "Why not? I'm marrying mine." She stood and offered him her hand. "Don't worry; your secret stays with me and mine. We'll crack this and do our best to find a way to leave your relationship out of it."

He shook her hand firmly, giving her a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Miss Young. I appreciate it."

She gave him a nod. "Now, I believe it's your day off. Get out of here and do something about your car." She said with a warm smile. "Talk to Richie in accounting, I'm sure we can do something for you while your car is out of commission."

He thanked her again and hurried down the hall. When he reached the lobby, Terry was already waiting, concern in her dark eyes. "They took the tape. They're going to know."

"That's okay." He said softly, guiding her out the door. "I've got it covered."

-------------------------------------

"Dad, mind if I grab a beer?"

"Course not, Donny." Alan waved his son off.

"Anybody want?" He called as he moved to the kitchen. No answer, so he pulled a bottle from the fridge and made his way back to the living room. "Thanks for letting us borrow the car, Dad."

He and Terry had arrived home in separate cars—one the Bureau had given him an advance on, to use until his was repaired. She'd driven that one, and he had returned his father's.

"Sure." Alan leaned back in his chair and fixed his sons and their respective girlfriends with an expectant glance. "So, anybody care to fill me in?"

"Hey, don't look at me." Amita held up a slim hand in defense. "I didn't know any more about this than you did." She turned to Charlie, who gave her his patented sheepish aren't-I-cute grin.

Terry looked to Don, as if looking for permission. He nodded to her, motioning for her to take the lead. "Go for it."

For the next ten minutes, the only sound in the room was Terry's soft and steady voice as she explained everything to them…the candy, the flowers, the tape, and the pictures. As she finished, they all sat in the quiet for a few minutes. Finally, Alan smiled at them. "You don't seem too upset about this."

"I'm really not." Terry replied, surprised to find that it was true. "It's odd, because I should be. But I think having it out there, having someone besides me deal with it, is putting my mind at ease already."

"That makes sense." He nodded, crossing his left ankle over his right knee and resting his hands on it. "It takes some of the pressure off."

Charlie leaned forward, threading his hands together between his knees and bowing his head over it. "You two are like disaster magnets. First you," He glanced up at his brother, amusement dancing in his dark and sharp eyes, "And now you. What's next?"

"Ah, don't say that." Don groaned, sinking back into the chair he had sat down in only seconds before. "What a mess."

Terry rose, stretched, and sighed. "I'm gonna call a cab, if it's okay. I need to get home and make sure I clean up the mess the collectors might have left when they took the roses this morning."

Don rose. "I'll come with you."

She gave him a quick once-over. "You look exhausted and I know I am. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine, I promise, and I'll call you right away if something happens."

"Terry—" He was painfully aware of the rest of his family and Amita sitting in the room nearby. He didn't want to argue with Terry. It was the last thing she needed right then. But he didn't want to let her go, either.

"All right, all right!" She laughed. "I'll let you play knight-in-shining-armor a little while longer. Come on, Sir Don. Let's go. I'm tired." She waved at Charlie, Amita, and Alan, and Don followed her out.

When they arrived at Terry's apartment, there was still yellow tape across the doorway and the small apartment was still full of people. They sat in the car and watched the comings and goings of the criminalists for a few moments before he turned to her. "Want to stay at my place tonight?"

She nodded. "I don't want to even know what it'll look like in there tomorrow. Rose petals everywhere, dirt, probably spilled water…" She sighed.

"I'll help you clean up." He promised, turning the car around. "For now, let's get home."

By the time they made it to bed that night, it was nearly eleven o'clock, despite both of their declarations that it would be an early night. Terry was asleep in seconds, but Don was finding it more difficult to fall asleep.

Her face looked so peaceful in the moonlight, he mused. A hand was tucked beneath her cheek, her hair was damp from her shower, and a pink cotton camisole trimmed in lace and pink satin pajama pants completed the innocent look.

Don brushed the hair back from her face. "I love you." He whispered. She didn't stir, but then, he hadn't expected her to.

Settling an arm gently around her waist, he pulled her to him and surrendered to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------

Don was gone by the time she woke. She yawned and stretched, rolling over. A long-stemmed single red rose lay on Don's pillow.

She sat up, smiled serenely, and buried her nose in the flower. Inhaling its scent, she dug through her purse for her cell phone.

"Eppes." He picked up after the second ring.

"Hey." She said softly.

"You're awake." There was a smile in his voice. "I'm on my way home."

"Great." She said with a grin.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the flower."

There was a pause. "Uh…the flower?"

"The rose you left on my pillow." She elaborated, feeling a swell of fear begin in the pit of her stomach.

Silence. Then, "Terry, get out of there. I didn't leave that flower. He must have been in my apartment, and he might still be there. Get out."

"My gun is in your car, Don." She said, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

"Just go." He said urgently.

She did. Pulling her clean jeans on and leaving everything else, she hurried from the apartment, down the iron stairs, and onto the brightly lit street. "I'm out." She told him, breathing a sigh of relief as she joined the bustling crowds of people milling about the sidewalk.

"Great. Sit on the bench out front, I'll be right there."

She did, relaxing in the sunshine and listening to the terse silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, Don's new black SUV arrived at the curb, and he leaned across the passenger's seat to push the door open. "I've called David and Kylie. We're going to meet them at the office."

"Okay." She said softly, clenching her hands in her lap.

"This is going to be okay." He promised.

"I know."

---------------------------

So there. I did manage to get something done this week. I never liked the way I had the old chapter, so I decided it was time I fixed it to be the way I liked it. :) This chapter is a bit transition-y—setting up for next chapter, which is where the story will REALLY pick up. It shall be dramatic, painful….hey, why don't I let you read it for yourself?

Chapter 4: _Diamonds_


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